The streets are quiet, but inside the gilt towers of marble and glass the hopeful ones feed their hungry masters-of-the-moment. Others queue for festive buffets, bemoaning the wasted hours in line. The tourist cameras flash futilely in the neon gloom, capturing only bright formless blurs. We glide among them, unnoticed, carefree, with no agenda.
Outside, the air is crisp, the skies clear, the sands quiet. Santa has come and gone, and the desert sleeps.
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